


Live for This

by lotorshairgel



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Daughter!Reader - Freeform, F/M, Father!shiro, Lotor x Reader - Freeform, Plot With Some Smut, Slow? Burn, Sometimes angst, Tis a mess, Tooth Rotting Fluff, lotor ain’t dead, quintesence, super powers, we gettin nasty, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 14:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotorshairgel/pseuds/lotorshairgel
Summary: (Y/n), a pilot for the Garrison, is sent on a mission, manned from earth by her father, Takashi Shirogane. On said mission, she finds that not all is as it seems. She finds that the infamous Prince Lotor, is not dead after all. The first thing she does? Shoots him with a stun gun.





	1. Chapter 1

Lotor was in so much pain, he could barely breathe.  
Something was wrong, so very wrong.  
He died. He was supposed to be dead. He saw Allura, saw his father, saw his mother in the peaceful abyss of death. He’d spoken to them. He’d missed years of life. Maybe millennium.  
But no, he was in his body, some new colony Altean temple surrounding him. He’d been buried like a king.   
The pain was everywhere, his lungs, his head, his arms, legs.   
He gasped, lungs finally waking. It felt like he’d swallowed sand, mouth dry and crisp. He bolted up, coughing and choking. He felt wiry vines, black tendrils almost weighing him down. He ran a hand through his hair, muscular body feeling as though the air had been sucked out of it, deflated. He’d never felt this weak in the life times he’d had to live.  
He looked at his hands, ungloved and a slightly more pale color of lilac than usual. He looked to his armor, which was shattered in places, all covered in a sheen layer of dust.  
He had no clue how he’d returned. No clue if the others had.   
But he knew one thing.  
He wanted a drink.

 

•••

(Y/n) Shirogane was on her fifty second mission. Her fathers, Takashi and Curtis Shirogane, we’re back home, on Earth, enjoying their retirement. She’d been adopted shortly after the Shirogane’s were married, a huge surprise to the team. Team Voltron had never expected Takashi, or as they called him, Shiro, to get married, much less, adopt a kid. (Y/n) was an infant when she was adopted, and only one thing could be said: Keith and Lance had fought over who was the uncle. Turns out it hadn’t mattered, given the argument started a heated fight, which lead to a fierce make out session, which lead them getting married two years later. (Y/n) hadn’t needed to hear the “making out” part, but they were very sure to include it in their story. Either way, Keith and Lance were known as “the uncles” instead of only one. Coran hadn’t even had to ask to be deemed the grandfather. That’s just how it was, no questions. Pidge was said to be “Aunt Katie”, “Aunt Pidge”, or as baby (y/n) liked to say “Aunt Patie”. Hunk was also deemed an uncle, but took more of the trusted baby sitter role. When Shiro and Curtis were deemed with late classes to teach, Hunk was entrusted with their most prized being: You. Most of the babysitting adventures included too many sugary foods, and (y/n) getting anything she wanted with her “irresistible cute baby face”, as Hunk said.  
(Y/n) grew in the care of her family, one that needed her as much as she need them. By the age of eleven, she could fly a fighter jet (to Shiro’s dismay). She was only twelve when she snuck off to the Black Lion’s port. Alone.   
Her subtleness was completely destroyed when the Black Lion, Who’d seemed to be off and napping for years, stood at attention and roared to her. The thundering boom of four other roars echoed, the other lions around her standing as well. She had run and never spoke of the event.  
Now, (Y/n) was a first class pilot, taking trips to other planets far behind earth’s solar system. As of now, she was on her way to planet Valcoin, which was far into the galaxy away.   
Some sort of unusual activity had been happening there, and it wasn’t normal unusual. Good things were happening. Plants that hadn’t grown in centuries, suddenly sprouted. An entire village recovered from famine in a snap, recourses replenishing. Keith had been on a trip to recruit members into their group, and had stumbled across the strange phenomenons. He hadn’t expected his niece to be put on the job. 

 

•••

 

(Y/n) sighed, swearing at her control board. “Fucking Griffin!” She said, dusting an extreme amount of cracker crumbs from a crevice. David Griffin, son of James Griffin, was a terrible slob, and had gotten his Hunk-made cracker sandwiches all over the ship.   
Of course, it was the ship (Y/n) had to use. Of course.  
She was twenty two, long dyed- black hair sling into a pony-tail. Her eyes calculated her course, seeing the crest of Valcoin nearing. She needed time to change clothes before she infiltrated to investigate. She landed her ship at the port Keith and his crew had set up, sighing.  
After changing into clothes to mirror the people’s of the planet, and long, Long hour of questioning strange aliens, she had found a source. Some said that the strange anomalies were all preceded by the passing through of a tall, cloaked figure. No one new him, they just knew, that at his humble footsteps, grass grew, people healed, problems magically solved.   
She decided to take count and prepare, check in with base. She slipped into the cockpit of her ship, tapping the screen on the control board to contact base. Her father’s face appeared, a smiling Takashi Shirogane.   
“Any news, munchkin?” He asked, a few Garrison workers waving from behind.   
(Y/n) nodded, smiling st her father’s appearance, “Locals say some guy in a cloak is like father nature or whatever,” she explained, “I need to find him, but I don’t know where to start.”   
Shiro nodded, “Well, intel says the Valcoinians are having their annual week of lunar celebrations. At night, everything is alive and partying in town. Maybe there?” He suggested, tilting his head slightly.  
(Y/n) nodded, “Sounds like a plan,” she said, smiling, “Signing off, Sir,” She said formally. “Bye Dad,” She said last, turning the screen off.   
She sat back in her seat, shoulders slumping, eyes growing weary.   
She sighed, stood, and went to get changed for the festivities.   
Once she was neatly set into her flowing capes and robes, all various shades of blue and purple, she set off on her mission. She searched through the parties. Tents lined the streets, people selling things, people talking. Everyone was lighthearted and using an airy tone in their voice. Carefree, really.   
It took hours of searching, and (Y/n) had found nothing. She sighed, slipping away from the festive Vulcoinians and to the cliff sides, just apart from the town. They were beautiful, a gentle slope going up and up to look over the blue colored farmland. A tree that reminded (Y/n) of a willow, only with puke and pink flowers, swept over the side, vines hanging down.  
Purple, glowing flowers gradually became clumped and toward the edge of the cliff, seeming to go to one place. They pushed together at the feet of a cloaked figure. An all black, tattered cloak hung off the creature’s tall frame, floating in the small breeze.   
The flowers seemed to get brighter the closer they were to the figure. (Y/n) knew, that was her target. She stepped closer, cautiously.  
“Excuse me?” She called, a few yards away.   
The cloaked figure turned, yellow rimmed eyes glowing in the night. Through the yellow, soft blue and purple could be seen. He looked calm, but some sort of confusion in his eyes.  
(Y/n) sucked in a breath, she knew she had to remain calm.  
She knew this man, from pictures. He’d killed so many. Hurt so many.   
(Y/n) didn’t know that the man had been proven to be missguided. She hadn’t know that he’d been accepted into peaceful death with the other heros. She did know, that he’d killed so, so many people. She knew that he was supposed to be dead.  
“Yes?” The figure asked, voice scratchy and rough.   
(Y/n) quickly decided on a plan of action, “Please come with me,” She said, backin up a bit.  
Lotor tilted his head, “What do you require?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed.   
(Y/n) wasn’t a good liar. A very bad one.   
“U-uh, my family, we’re uh-“ she thought for a moment, “Really short. And can’t reach something. Off a shelf. Could you help?” She cringed at herself.  
Lotor gave a soft smile, the purple marks on his cheek, very present, and glowing brightly. He started down the slope, falling into pace beside (Y/n).  
(Y/n) inhaled quietly, thankful her stupid lie had paid. She lead him down, glowing flowers sprouting behind he steps. She was in a mass of silent questions. How was this guy even alive?  
It took a few moments, but they made it back to the ship. Where she decided to strike. When Lotor turned to look for a home in the barren run way, she did the only thing she could think of; she called him with a high blast of her stun gun.  
Lotor flopped to the ground, cloaks fannin on the ground around him. The hood fell back, revealing his very, very tragically ruined hair. Black tendrils and melted parts stuck together, as if he’d been burnt to a crisp.   
(Y/n) had made a grave mistake. Now she had to carry the seven foot tall man to her ship, which was too far for comfort. She sighed. This would be a long night. 

•••

Lotor woke up and felt like he’d been burnt to a crisp. Again. He was shackled to some sort of comfortable chair, unable to move his legs, more arms. He groaned, pieces of charred hair in his face. He shifted a bit, sonit would fall away and back. He was staring into space, some blue planet in the distance. It looked oddly familiar.   
The sound of chatter was very close, directly next to him. He glanced over, seeing the form of a girl in the pilot’s seat. He had only seen her once clearly, in the dark glow of flowers on the cliffs. He could see her better now, and Stars, did he love her nose. Something about her nose was so adorably sweet. And the way her hair slipped into her face if she tilted her head the right angle. The way-  
He cut those thoughts off. This was his captor. She’d shot him with a stun gun!  
He groaned yet again, grabbing the attention of the pilot. She jumped, conversation ceasing. She seemed to be alone, but maybe she’d been talking to herself.  
She sighed, “Lotor,” she said, as if his name were fire, burning at any tenderness in her voice.  
He nodded, very slowly. He didn’t want to move, even if he could have. It was comfortable.   
“Small captor,” he said, giving a monotone look. He had to look unmoved by her presence.  
She looked ahead, “Welcome to Earth,” she mumbled, quite harshly, “You’ll be imprisoned here for as long as you’re alive.”   
Lotor raised an eyebrow. He was confused. Why was he being imprisoned? He couldn’t remember doing anything wrong. Well of course he’d done wrong, but always to help people. Sometimes you had to choose, right?   
The girl sighed, “Just… we’ll see. Unless they’re absolute fuckasses, you’ll be put where you should. My family’s gonna be a wreck…” She looked down, to the controls. They were quickly approaching earth, some sort of military base open and waiting. Lotor tensed.  
“Why would your family be a… wreck?” Lotor asked.  
(Y/n) sighed, “You know my father. And my aunt. And my uncles. And my grandfather,” she turned to him, eyes narrowing.  
“And the princess that should have been my adopted aunt,” she straightened, “My father is Takashi Shirogane.”  
Lotor was very confused.   
J


	2. Please, anything but the hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bye bye Lotor’s hair

“I wasn’t aware human males could reproduce,” Lotor said.  
The girl choked on air, shaking her head. She cringed at the thought, face scrunched up in discomfort.  
“No, no they can’t. I’m adopted, ew. No,” She said.  
Lotor nodded, a bit confused on the term, but that was okay. He didn’t need to make more of a fool of himself.  
“I’m just… I’m gonna land the ship now. No more human reproduction questions,” The girl said, face showing a sour, disturbed look.  
Once they’d landed at the Garrison base, the girl contacted the inside, waiting for a transport, and heavily armed soldiers to come help with Lotor. Not that he’d need to be watched, he had no intention of running.  
The girl stood, pacing the ship’s small cockpit. She mumbled under her breath, eyebrows furrowed. She was definitely thinking of something, thinking hard.  
When the Garrison workers came, she addressed them formally, motioning to Lotor. Just behind them, a white haired male came running.  
“(Y/n)! (Y/n), are you alright? Where is he?” The voice could be heard, a tone of authority laced through.  
The girl who’d taken Lotor, (Y/n) apparently, jumped out of the ship and onto the runway. Though out of Lotor’s sight, she could be heard.  
“Dad! I’m fine, he’s in there. He’s the right guy, right? Actually him? It doesn’t make sense,” she said, voice a wave of emotion and confusion.  
The two Garrison workers had made due of Lotor, detaching him from the chair, and putting multiple sets of chains on his limbs. He walked willingly, down the stairs of the exit, and onto the dust tarmac.  
He spotted a familiar face, a tall man, not as tall as him, standing a few yards away. He was hugging his daughter,  
(Y/n). Takashi Shirogane looked old. Very old.  
Lotor sucked in a breath, an audible gasp coming from Shiro. Now, Lotor was a humble guy, but he definitely had his moments. This was one of them.  
“Cosmos, you’re so old!” He said, blinking at Shiro’s appearance.  
It had seemed like only yesterday that he and Shiro were physically the same age, it had been that way to Lotor. He felt like he hadn’t aged a day since he died, and he really hadn’t. Shiro had to be in his late forties or early fifties.  
His hair was stark white, worry and age lines creasing the space between his eyes. He had glasses- stereotypical old guy glasses. It was so strange to see.  
Shiro, who should’ve been surprised at Lotor’s arrival, only snorted quietly. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you die for twenty years,” he said, letting (Y/n) go.  
(Y/n) turned to look at Lotor, giving the still robed man a once over. He definitely looked strange. She bit the inside of her cheek, then looked to the guards at Lotor’s sides. Then to her father.  
“What are they going to do with him? He doesn’t seem harmful,” she said, crossing her arms.  
“We’ll discuss that at the emergency meeting tonight, but for now,” Shiro thought for a moment, “We’ll have to put him under arrest. Take him to level G, highest security hold,” Shiro said, giving a sympathetic look to Lotor.  
(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “He hasn’t done anything wrong,” she said.  
Shiro shook his head, a warning look on his face.  
Lotor looked between the two, not sure who was right. He’d done things, he knew that. He knew he’d hurt people. But it was for the greater good, right? Gettin quintessence to save millions, by killing hundreds, right? Right?  
(Y/n) sighed, “Well, someone’s gotta clean him up, look at him. Look at his hair, it’s so messed up.”  
Oh my. Lotor cringed.  
Not his hair.

 

•••

Lotor was not comfortable at all. Being handcuffed at the feet and wrists in a stone cold cell was not a comfortable thing. He had to sit on the floor, tattered robes tangled around his legs. His hair hurt to touch, even to move now. He felt alone, barren. Even when he was exiled, he’d still had a few guards to talk to, occasional visitors. Now, he was in a dark, cold cell, not a guard in sight, and so, so alone.  
He laid his head against the cold wall, cringing at the slight tug on his hair, the cool seeping in. He shivered, closing his eyes lightly. He didn’t like being alone, not here, not in his royal grave, not mentally. He was always mentally alone, except for the small time he spent with the paladins. Seeing as how he’d met the princess in death, and how the Paladins seemed to have split up to go on their own, he knew there would be no return. Even if they’d been on earth, he was being treated like a fugitive. Even if they’d been on earth, they were all older now. Despite having ten thousand plus years of age, he still felt and looked in his mid twenties. When had he stopped physically aging, twenty five, twenty six? He couldn’t remember, it seemed so foggy.  
The cell door slammed closed. He jumped, holding back a startled Yelp. He must have fallen asleep, he hadn’t heard footsteps, nor had he heard it open.  
His captor, (Y/n), stood there, a frumpy satchel in hand.  
“You look like a Barbie with black berry gum went through the dryer,” she said, setting the bag down, and then pulling a chair over. He didn’t remembered her bringing the chair. Maybe he’d fallen asleep.  
“Thank you miss, you look astonishing as well,” Lotor said drearily.  
(Y/n) sighed, huffed, and patted the chair.  
“Get up here, I’m fixing you,” She said.  
Lotor was puzzled. Fixing him? Did she mean his hair? There was so much worse under the robes, why did she want his hair. He obeyed either way, shuffling into the chair and sitting with a thud. His legs were too long, sprawling at the bottom.  
(Y/n) sighed, gently taking s strand of his surviving hair. “I’m going to try and save what I can. But it might look weird, so once I get the burnt and whatever the black stuff is off, I’ll fix it.”  
She set to work, bag beside her feet filled with combs, scissors, an electric razor, and many other supplies. She stood behind the chair Lotor was on, scissors in hand.  
Lotor tensed as she touched the first piece, a “shiqk” noise echoing through the room. Burnt hair fluttered to the ground, along with the sinking in his chest. Another “shiqk” noise, more ruined hair falling to the ground. Lotor gave up watching a few in, closing his eyes dutifully. Despite the tragedy of his hair, it was relaxing to hear and feel. The liberation of matted locks made him feel lighter and… calmer. By the time the scissors stopped, he was half asleep, head tilted to the front.  
(Y/n) had started something or other with the electric razor, though Lotor only knew it to be a small buzzing tool. He didn’t figure out what it did, having drifted off to sleep too soon.

•••

(Y/n) was confused about… well everything. How could this boy, sleeping softly- because someone played with his hair- be a fugitive. He was adorable!  
While her hands worked, she had time to think this over, along with a game plan of what to do after his hair was done. She was going to prove he wasn’t a threat, because really? How could he be?  
She was also going to get him a shower, which took the most planning. He would probably need help, especially if he wasn’t allowed to take the cuffs off. That was gonna be awkward.  
She set the electric razor off, deciding she was done. A few braids later, she was satisfied.  
Most of the top of Lotor’s hair had survived, only a few pieces had to be chopped. The sides were absolutely trampled, a few random strands hanging. She’d taken those and braided them back, then all of the surviving hair into one mass braid. It didn’t look to bad, almost like a hair cut someone would get intentionally. At least there wasn’t any bald spots, right? Just buzzed parts.  
She nodded to herself, stepping around to the front to see how she’d done. Oh Stars. She bit her lip, the innocent, relaxed face of Lotor correctly clashing with the hair. His eyes were gently closed, mouth slightly apart. One stupid stray piece of hair hung in front of his face, but it looked like it belonged. His cheeks were slightly flushed, a pinker purple.  
She sighed, calmly took out her phone, and opened the camera.  
Her stupidity was what ruined it. The click and flash woke the prince, his entire body tensing. His eyes snapped open, look of calm vanishing. He looked terrified almost, only for a moment.  
(Y/n) hissed in disapproval “Sorry,” She said, tucking the phone away.  
Lotor let his shoulders relax, nodding faintly. He cleared his throat, pink tint appearing more visible on his cheeks. He looked so… embarrassed. (Y/n) wanted another picture.  
She pretended like she hadn’t taken a photo before, opening the camera again.  
“Look up, I’ll show you how it looks,” she said, some sort of aching feeling in her chest. She wanted him to like it, hands shaking as she lifted the phone.  
Lotor gave a small half smile, eyes softening. She was going to have a heart attack. She turned the screen, letting him look.  
Something flashed in his eyes, something puzzled, confused. He looked up to her, then back to the photo.  
“That’s me?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed.  
She nodded. Lotor sat back in the chair, leaning on the back of it.  
“You’re sure?” He asked, the sinking feeling filling (Y/n)’s chest.  
She nodded. He didn’t like it, did he? It was probably lopsided or something, and she couldn’t see. Or not his style or-  
“Can you do this to my hair always?” He asked, bright eyes flashing with enjoyment.  
(Y/n)’s look of disappointment flashed to happiness. He did like it! Her crappy, unprofessional hair job was actually liked! She was proud of herself.  
“As long as they let me,” She said.

•••

Getting Lotor to the shower was much harder than getting him a shower. It was approved as soon as (Y/n) asked, but the trip there was terrible.  
A clumsy, tired, seven foot tall alien prince walking down the hall in shackles was not an easy feat. Especially when the short in comparison girl was the only thing keeping him up. Every step was a struggle for him, trying to keep his balance, trying to keep his strength. He only prayed that the shower had a seat. It wasn’t a long trip, only down the hall and to the left. No other prisoners were there, only dark, cold cells.  
The shower room, was hardly what he knew showers to be.  
A white room, tile floor, and faucets hanging from the ceiling. A bench sat under each faucet, a bar on one side. He couldn’t tell if it was to hang onto or for chaining.  
(Y/n) gave a distasteful look, “Once you’re cleared, you’ll have a real shower. For now, we just need to get you fixed up.”  
Lotor nodded, sitting down harshly on the bench. It shuddered under his weight, which wasn’t much for his species, but a lot for a human.  
“Ok, ok, so… are you gonna be ok on your own? Here,” (Y/n) leaned down flashing a card in front of the scanner on the cuffs around his hands, then around his ankles. Both popped off, clanging on the ground. (Y/n) grabbed them, tucking them into her belt.  
“I should be fine,” Lotor said, rubbing his wrists nonchalantly.  
(Y/n) nodded, setting a bag of cleaning supplies down, and slipping out into the hall. There wasn’t another exit in the room, so nothing could go wrong.  
Of course.  
And then she heard a wet crash, almost as if someone had slipped. She snorted- the dummy had fallen. More slipping noises. She put a hand over her mouth, muffling the laughter.  
A few moments later, a knock from the other side of the door came. She turned, opening it. The sight before made her choke, for so, so many reasons.  
On one hand, the half soapy, half soaked Lotor in front of her was hilarious to see. He looked like a wet poodle, eyes closed as her rubbed at them.  
On the other hand, a shirtless, bloody and battered Lotor was terrifying. He would’ve been, as (Y/n) would say “fictional character level hot”, if he didn’t have dried blood and black vine tendrils seeped into his skin.  
“I hate to ask,” Lotor’s rough, sore voice said, “but may I have some help please?”  
(Y/n) nodded, “Soap in your eyes?” She asked.  
Lotor nodded, “It looked like face wash, and it was clearly not.”  
“You don’t put face wash in your eyes,” she said.  
“Well, it say it will make the world look brighter on me, so why wouldn’t I?”  
She snorted, sliding back into the shower room, and tugging him along. Instead of one faucet on, almost all of them were, a steamy haze filling the room.  
She stayed out of the line of Fire, not enjoying the idea of getting soaked in her uniform.  
She lead him back to the bench, sitting him down.  
“Tilt your head back, let the water was your eyes,” she said, stepping back.  
After Lotor has washed the soap from the unfavorable places, he looked to her, help ringing in his eyes.  
She pointed to the blood on his chest, “I’m guessing that’s not from soap,” she said.  
Lotor nodded, “I woke up with them. I don’t remember exactly. They seem to be scars now, but still bloody and sore.” He said.  
(Y/n) nodded, grabbing a soft wash cloth from her bag and letting it under the water. She set it down, yanked her Garrison coat off, and threw it into the dry spot by the door.  
“I can go from here if it causes you issues,” Lotor said, stiffening.  
(Y/n) shook her head, “I don’t want to hear you fall and get blamed for your concussion,” She said, taking the washcloth up again.  
She gently wiped blood of his shoulders, working her way down. The tint on her face must have given away her… her mood. She couldn’t tell what it was. He didn’t make her uncomfortable as he should have, if it were anyone else, she’d have bolted. But she wasn’t embarrassed, she knew shad had to do this. She felt invasive. If she’d been kidnapped, taken to an alien planet, and then forcefully washed, she’d be creeped out, majorly.  
She stepped back, “Sorry, is this ok?” She asked, holding out the cloth for him to take.  
Lotor smiled, taking the cloth gently, “You’re fine,” he said, “Though I don’t dislike this, it would be best if I did the front. Though, if you could help me with the back, I’d appreciate it.”  
(Y/n) nodded, stepping back and leaning against a dry wall. She sighed, closing her eyes for a bit.  
When she opened them, Lotor seemed to be done, struggling to reach parts of his sides.  
(Y/n) stepped over holding a hand out for the cloth.  
So her original thought, of how he’d be “fictional character level hot” if he weren’t covered in blood and black tendrils, was needing to be rethought.  
He was still half covered in blood, and only the tendrils on the front of his body had disintegrated off- and damn. He was next level fictional character hot. He was “obsess over daily” fictional character hot. And he wasn’t even fictional.  
She gently rubbed the blood and dissolving tendrils off his back, only stopping when he let out a soft groan. She looked away from her work, to see the corner of his face. It was tinged pink again, his eyes closed tightly.  
She set back to work, pretending she hadn’t seen his flusteredness.  
Once he was as clean as she could get, she looked to his pants. No matter how strong she was, there was no way she was helping there. She dropped the blood tinted wash cloth onto the bench, sighing.  
“Call if you need help,” she said, praying he wouldn’t.  
He nodded, picking up the cloth and stretching up.  
She set clothes from the bag onto a dry bench, sliding to the door. She tried not to look at his sides, his chest, the fucking abs that were so obvious. Nope, not going there.  
She backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. As her feet stepped into the hall, a squishing noise was heard. She looked down, white boots soaked to the brim and gushing with water. Her gray t-shirt cling to her, pants only staying by the belt, which was sagging deeply. She was a mess. Her hair was plastered to her face, sides, back. She didn’t even remember getting wet, just being there. It was strange.  
She felt a bit dumb for doing Lotor’s hair and then asking him to shower, but he hadn’t seemed like he had intentions to wash it anyways. What was left of it seemed pressingly clean anyways.  
Moments later, she heard the water turn off. She turned to the door, waiting for the tall man to come out. She prayed he knew how t-shirts worked.  
She stepped back, hearing the footsteps. For the second time that day, she snorted at his arrival.  
Given his tall stature and lanky limbs, the clothes were a bit small.  
She didn’t know that would be the day she saw a purple prince in a crop top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry @ Lotor’s hair. I did what had to be done


	3. What is a sock?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this ones to short hhhhhhh

Lotor was quite concerned with his apparel. He was an open man, decently body confident- but this? This was a bit too far. He tugged the shirt down, much too small for his broad, long frame. The pants, well what were supposed to be pants, looked like shorts that were a bit too long, stopping just below the knee.   
He did not enjoy how tight they were, either. Nor how (Y/n) was hiding her choked laughter.   
“They must have given you the shrimp cadet’s clothes!” She said, covering her mouth as a snort came out.   
Lotor sighed, backing into the shower room. He made a move towards his old, soaked clothes, before (Y/n) stopped him.  
“No, no, here, just wait here, I’ll call for more. Might have to get specially tailored ones, you’re pretty big compared to humans. I know how to sew, so if you need, I can,” (Y/n) said, smiling deftly and reaching into her pocket.  
She pulled out her radio, a brisk argument with some other staff member droning through Lotor’s mind. He was humiliated, a pink tint over his cheeks. He’d looked like such a blubbering fool in front of the girl, Shiro’s daughter, (Y/n). Stars, he knew that name. It was there, familiar, known. He could barely remember what had happened the day before (or was it twenty two years before?), but he could remember that name, he could remember her face. He could remember feeling joy radiate off her, he could remember wanting to be close, he wanted to be close.  
He took a step forward before remembering his sanity, his manners, his composure. He covered by casually, very casually, leaning against the door frame, handcuffs jangling as they bumped it.   
“There gonna have stuff ready for you in like thirty seconds,” (Y/n) said, looking up to him.  
She was so tiny to him. In his slouch, he was only (Yeah, ONLY) about seven feet tall, but raising to his full height would place him at seven feet and three inches tall. A very tall boi.  
(Y/n) turned when she heard footsteps, meeting the staff member. The pale boy looked absolutely terrified of Lotor, gaze flashing between (Y/n) and him. Lotor shot him a soft smile, watching him flinch. He had to hold a laugh, seeing his hands shake as he handed (Y/n) a pack of clothing. Lotor had no intention of hurting anyone ever again, and he’d told himself that. It was just funny to watch people jump.  
“Griffin, stop staring before your eyes glaze over,” (Y/n) said, a sigh slipping out.   
The boy, Griffin, jumped at her words, seeming to be snapped out of his daze. “Staring at what, that thing?” He asked, glancing to Lotor with an obviously fake glare.   
(Y/n) sighed, “He May be a prisoner, but if he has any want to break your nose, I surely won’t stop him.”  
Lotor took that as a cue to give his sinister smile, eyes staring into the gaze Griffin was casting to him.  
Griffin shot (Y/n) a glare, and took off down the hall.  
Lotor was proud of himself. He’d practiced that smile in front of a mirror when he returned from exile so long ago. He wanted to look fearsome, and his soft smiles didn’t exactly cut it.   
(Y/n) turned to him, a tiny laugh slipping out. She threw the clothes to him, watching as he took a faceful. He hadn’t expected her to throw them.   
“Go get changed, scary boy,” she said, a hand reaching up to ring her hair out.   
Lotor slid into the shower room, doing as he was told. He glanced at himself as he did so, sighing deeply at the sights. The black tendrils has been replaced with black scar-like marks, ruining his once clear complexion. Deep purple designs snaked on his skin symmetrically, sometimes interrupted by a black mark. When his chosen one marks glew (which was harrowingly annoying- right under his eyes!), so did they, though usually hidden by his bulky armor.  
His armor was thoroughly ruined, the scraps having disintegrated off him the moment he’d stood. Thank the cosmos there was a burial shroud to use as cover. He couldn’t believe he’d used his own burial shroud…   
Once he’d changed clothes, he slid the door open, rolling his stiff shoulders forward. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, which was almost too tight, though it covered his torso entirely. Black pants made it down to his ankles, though they were slightly large around the waist. He only had socks- which he was very confused about- for his feet. He didn’t know what the floppy, slip of material was for. He held them up, glancing down at (Y/n).  
“What is this?” He asked, a whisper of embarrassment in his voice.   
(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “You don’t know what socks are?” She asked.  
He shook his head.   
(Y/n) gave a small smile, almost amused, and Stars, did Lotor want to keep that image. The way her lips tilted to one side, the way her eyes glinted, the way her nose scrunched, the- woah. He stopped himself. He couldn’t be thinking that about her! He needed to stop!  
“They go on your feet to keep you warm. The seam goes on top of your toes,” she said, kicking her doggy boot off to show him.  
He nodded, leaning onto the wall to slide them on. Oh. Oh that was uncomfortable. Socks were strange, so, so strange. He slid it back off, tucking it into his pocket, along with the other.  
“I’ll be fine,” he said stiffly.   
He couldn’t tell what (Y/n) thought of that. She’d turned away, and started down the hall.   
“Come on, I better get you back to the cell before my dad yells at me for fraternizing with the prisoner,” she said.  
They went down the hall silently, only the sound of (Y/n)’s squishy boots interrupted the buzz of machines. She looked as cold as Lotor felt, wet hair plastered to his face, soaked clothes clinging to (Y/n)s frame.   
She opened his cell door, and he slipped in wordlessly. He had no means of protesting. He hasn’t noticed his transition to timidness.   
The scraps of his hair had been removed by someone, a now flawless stone floor laid below.   
(Y/n) sighed, closing the door. She looked around, Lotor catching her gaze for a moment. She sighed yet again, it seemed to be a habit.  
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and took off down the hallway, boots squishing.   
Lotor was confused.

•••

(Y/n) returned minutes later, panting from exertion. She had dressed in warm, dry clothes, wet hair pulled away from her face. In her arms was a large, fluffy, gray sheet.  
Lotor was sitting on the cold floor, purple skin more a lilac in the cold. He opened one eyes to see her, in time to jump.   
(Y/n) glanced up to him, “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake,” she said, letting go of the corners of the blanket.  
She had draped it over him, how could she not? Seeing his purple ears droop in discomfort, the flushness of his skin, the goose flesh on his arms. The poor boy was going to turn blue! Or dark purple? Pink? Something!  
Along with the fact the the tall one was subtly adorable when his eyes were closed, that may have played a large factor.   
Lotor looked to the blanket, pulling it around himself tightly. (Y/n) smiled, one hand running through his hair. He stiffened under her touch, eyes narrowing.  
(Y/n) pulled her hand away, hurt flashing into her heart. “Sorry, it just-“ she cut herself off. Oh god, she couldn’t say that! “Looked soft.”  
Oh yeah, she could say that. And blush dramatically hard afterwards.   
Lotor only smiled, some untold mischief flashing across his face.   
“It’s alright, Miss. (Y/n),” he said, “And thank you. It was well taken care of.”  
(Y/n) smiled, enjoying that he was actually talking to her. Not for help, not for assistance, guidance. A thank you.   
She gave a soft smile, backing out of the cell. She turned to go, closing the door behind her. It was going to be rough, the next few weeks, with him under her charge.  
How could it not be, with how much she was going to have to hide a blush?


	4. Roar

Lotor and (Y/n) had grown to know each other over the past few weeks. (Y/n) came to his cell everyday to bring food, talk with him, and to even do his hair. He absolutely loved it when she touched his hair. He fell asleep almost every time.   
(Y/n) loved playing with his hair, almost as much as he did. She thought it was adorable when he fell asleep, and even more adorable when his face was relaxed, and even more adorable when he startled away and apologized. She’d tell him it was alright every time, but he was a gentleman, and asked for forgiveness.  
(Y/n) had been so confused about him. He seemed so… striking. Something about him was strange, stood out, caught her attention. It wasn’t the fact that he was purple, she’d gotten past that. It was just… something about him.  
She had given up on rational thought and had gone to the Lion hangar. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be there, she knew she would be in trouble. But it was an amazing place to think. It was always quiet, and the lions had some sort of presence, a resting one.   
The lions were all standing, eyes dimmed and staring ahead. They faced each other, forming a circle. (Y/n) sighed, stepping out into the Lion’s circle.  
“Hey dudes,” she called, voice ringing through the hangar. “It’s (Y/n) again. Just hanging out.”  
She sat down in the center of their ring, closing her eyes. She sucked in a breath, then looked up to the black lion.   
“Ok, I know you’re kinda like alive and have personalities and all, right?” (Y/n) said, “So you can listen to me.”  
She stood up, walking in a pace, circling the spot she’d just been in.  
“There’s this guy- Lotor. And he’s so… weird. And I don’t know if I can trust him. He hasn’t given me a reason not to, but he’s said to be a fugitive, a murderer. And my dad, your old Paladin, he doesn’t trust him.”   
She ran a hand through her hair, “And-“  
She was cut off. Each lion rose from their position, Roaring to each other.   
(Y/n) yelped, stumbling back.   
Her vision went dark, images flashing into her mind. She was at the helm, hands on the controls of the lion. She felt so free, happy, natural. She was supposed to be there.   
Her vision changed, the image of a cloaked figure appearing. They had glowing marks on their face, glowing purple veins showing from under the cloak. There was a crowd of people, all chanting around the figure. No one’s face could be seen, all wearing a blank white mask. The figure seemed to be glowing brighter, energy from the air sucking into their outstretched hands.  
(Y/n) couldn’t make out what they were chanting. It sounded familiar, like she should know what it was. It was so strange…   
“Quintesence… quintesence…” Over and over, hissed whispers from every direction.  
The scene changed again, a quiet bedroom appearing. A petite galra woman was resting, cheeks flushed in exhaustion. A man with white hair and blue altean markings- much like (Y/n)’s uncle Lance’s- sat at the edge of the bed. He looked formal, like he was some sort of royalty. The galra woman let out a huff.  
“What are we supposed to do with it?” She asked glancing at the pile of blankets in her arms.  
The royal Altean thought for a moment, a hand coming up to rub the worry from his brow, “We cannot kill it, that is cruel beyond anything even Zarkon could do. It cannot be seen,” He said.  
“Take it,” The galra said, handing the bundle to the Altean man.  
“A cryo pod. For as long as we must,” He said, removing part of the blanket. The face of a small, newborn child appeared, face scrunched in discomfort.   
(Y/N)’s eyes snapped open, gasping for air. She was laying on the floor, sprawled beside the Black lion’s right paw. She sat up, running a hand through her disheveled hair. She was so confused, putting one hand on the lion’s paw to steady herself as she stood.   
“What was that for?” She asked the beast of metal, looking around at the other resting machines.  
She let out a huff and shook her head, a starting a quick pace towards the door. She was probably just going crazy, she needed a nap.   
She headed out, deciding she would go back to the hangar the next day, to make sure everything was the same.   
•••  
Lotor was minding his own business, reading one of the books (Y/n) had brought him. It was called “The Hunger Games”, and it was absolutely terrifying how close it was to a specific galran game. Then again, you played that game willingly.   
He was starting to get used to his scheduled days, and he didn’t particularly hate them. The few hours he’d get to spend with (Y/n) were the greatest, especially when she’d offer to do his hair. He loved their conversations, learning about Earth, hearing what happened to the Paladins. It was amazing.   
When (Y/n) came in that day, she looked a little more frazzled than usual. Her hair was messier, her face was flushed. It worried him.  
“Good afternoon, (Y/n),” he said, watching her open the cell door.  
“Hi,” she said, sliding in, “Do I look like a mess? I feel like a mess.”  
Lotor tilted his head. Yes, she did look like a mess. Her hair was all tousled, her uniform was a little frumpy, and her eyes looked almost unfocused.   
“No, no. You’re alright, I assure you,” Lotor said, giving a small smile.   
(Y/n) returned the smile, taking a seat across from him. The cell finally looked like it was lived in, a few books stacked in the corner, a bed with fluffy blankets, even a few drawing (Y/n) had done for him. As the Garrison grew to trust Lotor, they gave him things of comfort. Sure, he didn’t have much of a bed yet, just a mattress on the floor, but (Y/n) said it was just so he wasn’t cramped.   
“I got news from my dad,” (Y/n) said, holding up a folder. She’d stopped in the office after her encounter with the lions.  
She slid the folder to Lotor, smiling when he took it. Lotor was confused, opening it carefully. He was worried his stupid claws would rip it, one stray touch and they’d go through.  
He took out the first paper, reading it out loud in a mumble.   
“Former Prince Lotor, has been granted access to three free hours a day, in which he will be watched and studied for final judgment of freedom,” he said, eyes flashing up to (Y/n).  
“You mean-“  
“You can go outside! I know you should’ve been able to a while ago, and it’s definitely my fault you’re here in the first place, but they’re gonna see that you’re not a cold blooded murderer, and they’ll let you go! I’ll even take you back up to the planet when you’re free,” (Y/n) said excitedly, tapping the floor with the palm of her hand.  
Lotor read the letter again, slipping it back inside the folder. He gave a small smile, so she’d stay happy with herself. He slid the envelope back.  
“Thank you, (Y/n),” he said, bringing a hand up to push his hair back.   
He hated the sinking feeling in his chest. He hated the knowing throb in his head, the stiffness in his neck.   
He didn’t want to leave, he had no where to go. This place had been the safest place he’d ever been. He had a friend, an amazing friend that played with his hair, drew things for his walls, got him books and blankets. Friend. Stars, he hated that.   
•••  
It was warm outside, especially in (Y/n)’s uniform coat. She slid it off, tying the thin around her waist. Lotor was by her said, hands cuffed loosely in front of him.  
“So the air on earth is only slightly toxic?” Lotor asked, taking a deep breath.   
(Y/n) nodded, “It should be fine, but humans have polluted it so much in the past. We’re trying to fix it now, but it’s just so… damaged, the atmosphere and all.”  
Lotor glanced to the roof of the Garrison. That was an explanation for the large solar panels.   
“Wanna come see the lions?” (Y/n) asked, looking up to him.   
Lotor looked down to you, surprise flickering across his face. They were allowing him to see the lions? The most powerful weapons in the universe? With only the company of a short pilot?  
That was a terrible idea.  
“That sounds wonderful,” he said, giving a small smile. He could feel the crackle on his cheeks, like he was wearing face paint. His hidden altean marks were not unnoticed to him. He could feel them, almost like one would feel their own tongue. They were there.  
(Y/n) took his arm, which could have been brushed off as leading a prisoner, and headed off towards a large, domed building. She moved briskly, rambling off about some part for a ship or other.  
He wanted to listen, but his mind was so hectic and loud, he could barely hear her. It was strange. He was remembering things at random, from years and years ago. He’d never exactly lost his memories, they just seemed to pop up and remind him.  
(Y/n) lead him up the stairs to the building, letting go of his arm to scan a card over the panel next to the door. She typed in some sort of code, too fast for Lotor to tell.  
“Also, could you not tell anyone about this? I don’t wanna get fired,” she said.   
That’s why it was so out of placed, she’d never asked for permission.   
“Here we go!” She slid the door open, pulling him in beside her.   
As the door slammed locked behind them, the card dropped to the floor.  
(Y/n) froze, Lotor froze, time itself seemed to freeze.  
Because the lions were all awake. They were all glowing their color, they were humming to each other.  
And then they roared.


	5. A New Age

(Y/n) had to admit- falling on her ass wasn’t the most heroic thing. Then again, with the ‘dangerous fugitive’ passing out, she was doing pretty well.  
Lotor has face planet into the floor, braided hair curled along his back.  
(Y/n) was next to him, but at least she was conscious.  
The lions had started releasing some sort of fog, their color reflected in it. Green, red, blue, yellow, and black flooded the room, mixing into a gray haze. (Y/n) could barely see the lions.   
She scrambled up, leaning Lotor, as she sprinted into the center of the room, trying to figure out what was wrong.   
She could hear the lions moving, though the fog had almost completely obscured them.   
“Stop that!” She yelled at them, “I’m going to get fired!”   
She ran towards the black lion, only to be picked up by its maw, and forcefully shoved in. She coughed, new surroundings shocking her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been in the Black Lion, but it was so sudden…  
She slipped into the pilot’s seat, squinting through the window to see through the fog. There wasn’t any inside the lion, thankfully.   
She felt the Black Lion bank forwards, sending her face first into the dash.   
By the time she grabbed the controls, the Black Lion was face to face with other’s, their circle tightening.   
The fog was clearing, flush out of the vents in the building.   
And then something went absolutely wrong. The Black Lion’s warning lights flashed, and before (Y/n)’s eyes, it’s chest crunched open. A huge hatch, going across the entire length of the Lion’s chest, opened, metal grinding on metal being heard.  
At least she could see what was happening…   
(Y/n) yelped as the Black Lion rumbled, some shiny piece being slid from it’s chest. (Y/n) didn’t realize it for a moment, had no clue what it was. Until she saw that it was a head. A huge, silver head, being slid out of the Black Lion’s chest.   
This was all too bizarre, she was seeing things, right?  
She heard more rumbling, watching as the Red Lion’s chest opened as well. Then the Blue, the Green, and finally, the Yellow.  
She shook her head, rubbed her eyes, but there was no getting rid of this image.  
Each lion had a part, a limb. Before her eyes, the five parts slammed together, like some sort of magnetic field had turned on. In the center of the room, standing where she’d once stood, was a new being.  
As the Black Lion’s chest hatch closed, She gapped at the being in the center of the room.  
“Holy quiznack.” She mumbled, eyes wide.  
Yellow eyes stared up at her, ears pointed her way. The beast was all silver, reflecting the surroundings.   
There was another Lion in the room. 

•••

(Y/n) had tripped over herself to escape the Black Lion, boots tapping on the floor as she ran to the new one- the Metallic Lion.  
She stopped a few yards away from it, chest rising and falling rapidly.   
“Dad’s gonna Kill me,” She mumbled.  
The new lion roared, crouching down to her. She yelped, jumping back.  
The lion only opened its mouth, a ramp extension down to her. She sucked in a breath, and before thinking properly, jogged into it’s mouth.   
It looked like any of the other lions, only it felt more… home-like. More natural, safer.  
Once in the control room- which sill mirrored the Black Lion’s- (Y/n) glances around, shaking her head.  
She was dreaming. She had to be, right?  
So if she was dreaming, that meant she could do whatever she wanted, right?  
She slipped into the pilot’s seat, stretching out a bit. She grabbed the controls, testing how comfortable they felt in her hands. It was perfect, so, so perfect.  
And then they were moving.   
(Y/n) yelped, searching for some sort of seat belt. There was none- how could there not be a seat belt? Those were necessary for flying and, you know, not dying!   
The lion burst through the hangar’s roof, shooting off and into the sky.   
Maybe this wasn’t a dream. Which made it all the more cooler. And all the more absolutely terrifying.  
(Y/n) screamed, hands death gripping the stone- still controls. She tried to move them, tried to control the lion, to no avail.  
“Woah woah woah- nice kitty!” She yelled, “Please don’t crash me into the ground or something!”  
It didn’t seem that the lion had any intention of crashing, only angling towarding the sky.  
(Y/n) closed her eyes, lip bit, and hands shaking.  
As she closed them, something flashed behind her eyelids. Visions, memories… oh stars, she couldn’t handle this.  
The same as the ones she’d had before- the cloaked person with the glowing marks, the crowds, that stupid, stupid word. Quintesence, Quintesence, Quintesence. She was going to go insane. She hated Quintesence, and whatever it was.  
The visions flashed, and she was in space. She was flying around a figure, a humongous robot. Voltron. She was in the lion- the Metallic one. She was helping, shouting commands even. She was firing at purple ships, all glowing so bright that it hurt to look at them.  
Another robot, a huge, black and blue one was alongside Voltron, firing shots at the purple ships.   
It was chaos.  
The vision snapped, and she was in a dark room. The only light came from a small crib. The outline of a woman could be seen, gently setting a child into the crib. Tears glimmered in the dim light, falling from the woman’s face and into the crib.  
“I’m so sorry, my darling,” she said, voice fragile and light.  
She kissed the child’s head, but the baby was uncaring. It barely acknowledged the woman, giggling at the glowing crib.  
The woman let out a sob as she pulled a clear visor over the crib. As she pressed a button on the side, the baby stilled, eyes closing, body limp. It looked dead.  
“Mama loves you,” rang through (Y/n)’s Head as she snapped awake.  
He eyes opened, a yelp slipping out.  
Her hands tightened on the Lion’s control’s, chest heaving.  
She glanced out the front window, seeing that they’d landed safely on the Garrison’s landing pad. She didn’t remember landing, nor the flight.   
She saw people on the ground running towards her, a few cars.  
She could see a man with white hair, her father, sprinting towards the lion.  
She knew one thing.  
If the shock of what had just happened didn’t kill her, he father surely would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I’ve had huge writers block, and need some motivation! My Wattpad readers have been great, so thanks to them.

**Author's Note:**

> No hate please, welcome to my trash fest


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